From: jenk@aa.net (Jen Kilmer)
Subject: repost: days-end
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
God, what a day. I shove the door shut behind me. For a moment I stand there in a fog, then I remove my glasses, placing them on the shelf inside the door. My purse starts to slide off my shoulder as I lean back against the door, eyes shut. My arms hang straight down, purse in one hand, two programmer's reference books in the other. Gravity pulls my hands open, dropping the bag and books on the floor. Sigh.
Somehow I sense that someone's looking at me. No. A friend is looking at me. No, not even that. Thom is looking at me.
My eyes open to see him smiling at me over a book from my favorite chair - large, sturdy enough to plop on and comfy enough to make plopping worth it.
"You ok?"
"Grrr. Tired." Can't frown at him. I start a smile. "I'm glad you're here." He smiles. Because I'm glad he's here. "How are things with you?" I ask. Because I want to know.
"Hmmm." Now I'm grinning. He always does that - like it requires thought, doing a quick checksum of the day before replying. "All right."
"Good". I take off the coat, throw it toward the coach, then I stand on one foot and then the other to take off my heels. Nice. Back on solid ground. They're nice shoes, though, so I set them carefully on the floor before stretching. The tension's leaving, taking some of the tiredness with it.
I wander across the room to Thom and lean over, bracing myself on the arms of the chair, so I can look directly in his eyes. Don't want to throw my back out. He looks up from his book again. "Yes?"
"I miss you when I'm gone." His smile is deeper now. He puts the book own. "I miss you too." He leans forward and gives me a quick kiss. "I started dinner. Want some now? I just need to finish up a few things." I start kissing him on the temples, by his eyes, on his cheek. "Nah".
"Mmm" he says.
My back won't go out in one second. I let go of the chair and pull up the sides of my skirt enough that I can kneel on top of him, my legs on either side.
"Yes?" he asks, a bemused smile on his face.
"Do you mind?"
Wide smile now. His hand moves to cup my cheek for a moment. "No".
"Okay". I kiss him, quickly, then pull back and giggle. Thom's giggling too. I lean forward again and we begin kissing. No rush. How many different ways could we enjoy a kiss? Our hands start exploring, lightly, then strengthening into a tight hug. It's so nice to feel comfortable like this. His hands on my back slip under my sweater, rubbing my back, moving up. His hands move around to the front, feeling my breasts through my bra. I unbutton his shirt, stroking and kissing his chest. Peeking up I see his eyes are closed and I feel that he's breathing faster.
My hand is stroking one nipple, my mouth is playing with the other. His hands move to cup my rear, stroking. I move to the other nipple, pressing my breasts against him. "Oh..." He cups my face in his hands, stroking my cheek, my hair. "Hey", he says gently pushing me back, "my turn". He lifts up my sweater and throws it on the floor. I arch my back and smile at him, feeling free. One hand lifts to stroke the side of a breast, the other my side, moving down my leg. He licks and kisses my nipple through the thin bra. I lean into him, wanting him. The bra cup turns transparent with wetness, clinging to me. His hand moves to cup my other breast, flicking the tight nipple with his thumb. His other hand slips under my skirt, moving up my leg encased in a silk stocking toward my hips. I hold onto his shoulders, vaguely stroking his scalp.
He reaches the stocking top, feels the lace holding it up, and stops. Looks at me. "Garter belt?" Surprised. I'm smile. Gotcha. I kiss his forehead. "Mmm". He kisses my between my breasts, moving to kiss the dry one. One hand on each of my legs, caressing my thighs. I'm too busy feeling to do much, but I won't let go of him either, my hands stroking his back and shoulders. His hands move higher. His fingers on my bare vulva. "Oh." Oh god. I can't breathe. I can't control this. He's tense too. His hand moves further, touching my wetness, slipping some fingers inside. "That makes me crazy...." He pulls my head to his and kisses me. His thumb stroking me outside, his fingers moving inside me. I rest my head against his shoulder. I'm panting. Nearly....
His hand moves to my hips as he moves his hips forward against me. His
hands on my buttocks hold me firmly against his erection through his
jeans. "Do you want to move?" "Not if you don't...". His jeans feel
rough on my legs and vulva. Eventually I unzip them, pulling his jeans
and shorts out of the way. He enters me, continuing the rhythm we had
begun earlier, feeling it build. I push myself further down, wanting
more of him. He arches back, pushing further into me. I start clenching
and unclenching my vagina, gripping him tighter, then relaxing. "God..."
he says, pulling me closer. I hear his breath in my ear, feel him
moving under me. "Ohh.." I groan.
"Orgasm" is such a pale word for what we experience. But "come" is so pale and overused...in Shakespeare's time, "die" was slang for this.... and very apt.
Afterward he moves over a little, so I sit beside him. I don't want to move. I don't want him to move. Unless, of course, it's to start over....
...microsoft would surely disavow all if it but knew...
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